


Getting the Kinks Out

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [73]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Car Sex, Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, Gift Giving, Jossed, M/M, Picnics, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:39:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fury apologizes to Phil for what he did to his cards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting the Kinks Out

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Mechanical/Technological

"Agent Coulson, you have a visitor," announced JARVIS.

"Who is it?" Phil asked. He was curled up on the sofa with his arm around Clint, and didn't want to get up if he didn't need to.

"It is a young man by the name of Steven Willis, and he has a delivery for you from Director Fury.

"Mission?" Clint asked, his eyebrows going up. Fury didn't usually have briefing files delivered to them at the Tower, but if there was something urgent...

"Not that I know of. I'll be there in a minute JARVIS."

Phil climbed off the sofa and ran his hand through his hair, then shrugged at Clint and went to open the door.

A very nervous-looking young man in a pristine SHIELD uniform stood there with a small package clutched under his arm.

"Agent Coulson, sorry to interrupt your afternoon, sir. Director Fury asked me to give you this." Willis held out the package. 

"Thank you, Specialist Willis, is that all?"

"Um, he said to tell you that it was down in the parking garage, sir."

"What was?"

"That was all I was supposed to say, sir. Sorry, sir."

"That's all right. Thank you, Willis." Phil turned and went back into the living room, where Clint had gotten up off the couch and moved just enough so that he could see the man at the door. Phil smiled fondly, they would always be looking out for each other, and he liked that.

"What is it?"

"No idea. I guess I'll have to open it to find out."

Phil opened the package. Inside was a small note card and a key fob. The note card read,

"Cheese, I'm sorry about your cards. Nick."

The key fob was black leather with a white enameled disk attached to it. It held two keys. Old, worn keys. Phil handed the note to Clint, and stared at the fob.

"He didn't."

"Didn't what?"

"I think we need to go down to the parking garage."

Five minutes later they were standing in the part of the Stark Tower garage reserved for The Avengers. In what used to be an empty space next to Clint's motorcycle was a cherry red convertible.

"It's a car."

"It's a 1962 Chevrolet Corvette. I can't believe he did this."

"Fury gave you a car?" 

Phil looked at the keys in his hand. He slowly unlocked the driver's side door, opened it, and climbed in. He closed the door. Clint, realizing that something was going on here that he didn't understand, didn't move and stayed quiet. Phil sat in the car. He held the keys in his hand. After a minute, he seemed to snap out of the daze that he was in, and leaned over to unlock the passenger door.

"Get in, get in."

"Are you sure you want me to, Phil? I mean it's pretty obvious that this car means something to you, that it's pretty special...."

"Yes it does. You mean something to me too. Get in." Clint shrugged and got in. The interior was black leather and chrome. The leather was soft and well-cared for, and everything Clint could see shone. The car had either been perfectly preserved, or lovingly restored. Phil was touching the chrome cowlings around the various dials on the dashboard. 

"Phil, it's beautiful."

"Yes, yes it is. It was built in Flint, Michigan. It has a four-speed manual transmission, and an eight-valve, 250-horsepower engine. 1962 was the last model year of the first generation Corvette." Clint wasn't sure if Phil was talking to him or to himself. 

"I've wanted one since I was fourteen," Phil said softly. 

Clint sat quietly, waiting.

"So, shall we take her for a spin, then?"

"Whatever you say, boss. She's your baby!"

Phil put the key in the ignition and turned. The engine roared to life, a 1962 V8 sounding extremely loud in enclosed space of the parking garage. Phil grinned at him, and then eased out of the parking space and up the ramp. They drove around the city for an hour. Phil drove slowly, carefully, getting used to the gears and the locations of the turn signals, lights, wipers, and so on. Clint split his attention between Phil and the heads that turned to look at them as they went past. After a while, he draped his arm across the back of the seats, not quite touching Phil's shoulders, but close. Phil shot him a grin.

"Nice to see that people still appreciate a quality classic vehicle," he said, making it perfectly clear that he hadn't missed the stares.

They pulled back into the parking garage, and Phil got out of the car.

"I wonder if..." He went around back and opened the trunk. Sure enough, there was a folded-up dustcover. "Give me a hand with this, will you Clint?"

Clint helped him cover the car, and rode the elevator back up to their suite with him, just enjoying the happy grin on Phil's face. Phil spent most of the rest of the day glued to his laptop, and Clint went to the range then came back and watched a movie on TV. Phil curled up next to him still busy, having swapped the laptop for his StarkPad.

~~~~~

"Clint. Wake up."

"Wha? Phil, is everything OK?" Clint snapped awake when he realized that Phil was shaking him.

"Yes, everything's fine. I just wanted to get an early start today."

"An early start on what?"

"We're playing hooky."

"We're doing what?"

"We're playing hooky - I've cancelled all my meetings and your training sessions, we're going to sneak off for the day."

"Phil, you woke me up at," he looked at the clock, "five-thirty AM to tell me I have the day off?"

"Yes, now get up and shower, we're leaving in twenty minutes."

"Leaving to go where?"

"Upstate."

"But I thought you said we were taking the day off?"

"We are. We're going for a drive."

Everything suddenly clicked into place for Clint. Why Phil was blowing off a day of work, and why he was being woken at five-thirty. He gave Phil a tired grin.

"OK, OK, I'm up, but you'd better make it worth my while!"

"Oh, don't worry, I plan to."

With that as impetus, Clint showered and dressed quickly. By the time he came out of the bathroom, there was a bag and a picnic hamper by the door, and Phil handed him a travel mug of coffee. 

"You'll need your sunglasses, and a jacket," he said, taking his brown leather bomber jacket out of the hall cupboard and shrugging it on, "I don't plan to put the top up unless it rains."

Clint grabbed him by the collar of the leather jacket and pulled him in for a kiss.

"I love it when you're all organized and stuff."

"Good. C'mon, I want to get out of the city before the morning gridlock starts."

Clint helped Phil take the dustcover off the car, and stow it, and put the bag and picnic hamper in the trunk. 

"They discontinued the trunk for the next generation that came out in '63. Here," he said, handing Clint a large road atlas of New York State and a printed sheet of directions. "You're navigating."

They climbed in, and Phil started the car. Now that he was used to the sound of the engine, Clint could appreciate how well-tuned it was. Nick Fury had obviously spared no expense in his apology.

They pulled out of the parking garage and Phil drove confidently. Clint knew he'd ask if he wanted to check his route, Clint had been his navigator more times than he could remember. Besides, Clint was pretty sure that Phil had memorized his planned route, that the atlas and printed directions were just backup.

Clint sipped his coffee and watched the city go by. Traffic was heavy, even at six in the morning, but Phil was heading north against the worst of it. 

"So, Phil what's the plan?"

"Well, we're going to take the Palisades Parkway north along the river, up through Bear Mountain State Park, then cut across on the 6 to the 17, so that we can avoid Interstate 87. We'll get off the 17 before we hit Binghamtown and the 81, and head north on the 8/80, which should put us in the southern end of Adirondack State Park by noon."

"We're having a picnic in The Adirondacks for lunch?"

"Yes, that's the plan."

"Sounds great," Clint said, and sat back in the comfortable leather seat, and sipped his coffee.

"Really?"

"Phil, I love driving with you. I've always loved driving with you. Hell, I probably started to fall in love with you looking at you from the passenger seat of some horrible rental car on some back road on the way back from some mission or other. Sitting next to you in a car feels like home. You want to drive north for six hours to feed me a picnic lunch in the woods, I'm totally on board with that."

"I love you too." Phil grinned at him and then turned his attention back to the road.

They left the city and drove through the suburbs. They left the suburbs and hit cottage country. They stopped for gas, and more coffee. They started to pass farms, and drive through villages that looked like they hadn't changed in 100 years. Old farmers ploughing fields with even older tractors waved at them as they went by, and they waved back. 

Just before noon they followed a brown state park sign off the highway and pulled into a completely deserted picnic area. Phil bumped the car carefully over the gravel to the end of the drive and then onto the grass. He parked in a secluded corner away from the picnic tables and barbecue pits. He turned off the engine and suddenly it was very quiet. 

They both got out of the car and stretched. Phil got the bag and the picnic hamper out of the trunk and Clint helped him spread a blanket out on the grass next to the car.

They ate, then they lay on their backs, holding hands, looking up at the white clouds drifting across the blue sky. 

"Thank you. This was perfect," Phil said.

"You're welcome, but all I did was come along for the ride."

"I love you." Phil squeezed Clint's hand, and again, Clint knew there was something going on, but he didn't ask, didn't press. Phil would tell him in his own time.

"We'd better get going, though, it's a long drive back." Phil sighed and got to his feet with obvious reluctance. Clint helped him stow the picnic things and their jackets in the trunk. The day had turned warm, and the black leather seats had soaked up the sun while they had been eating.

They got into the car, but Phil didn't turn the engine on right away. Instead he put a hand on the back of Clint's neck and pulled him over for a kiss. Clint smiled into Phil's mouth, thoroughly enjoying a happy, relaxed, sun-warmed Phil. 

Or not entirely relaxed, as it turned out. Phil pushed a hot, insistent tongue into Clint's mouth and kissed him deeply. He slid his other hand under the back of Clint's t-shirt and ran his palm up the warm skin of Clint's broad back. Clint twisted in his seat and got his arms around Phil, and kissed him back with just as much passion.

Phil's fingers snaked around from Clint's back to his chest and started to tease a sensitive nipple. Clint moaned into Phil's mouth, then pulled back from the kiss.

"Got more plans, Phil?"

"Mmm-hmm." Phil kissed along Clint's jaw, nipped lightly at the skin under his ear with his teeth, licked a stripe down Clint's neck, and then fastened lips and teeth to his shoulder. He bit down hard on thick muscle and then started to suck a hickey into Clint's neck. Phil's hand moved down to Clint's crotch and started to work his dick through his jeans. 

The moans he drew out of Clint were perfect, as perfect as everything else had been so far, the drive, the picnic and now this. The smell of the warm leather around him, the bright sun, the secluded spot in the woods, even the steering wheel digging into his hip, everything was exactly how he had always imagined it, exactly how he had always wanted it.

Clint's fingers were on the buttons of Phil's shirt and then tugging the tails out of his pants. Phil's were unfastening the fly of Clint's jeans.

Clint pulled back from where he was kissing Phil's throat.

"Maybe we'd better get that blanket laid out again."

"Nope."

"Phil, how far were you planning to take this?"

"All the way, if you're up for it." Phil said, palming Clint's hard dick.

"Of course I'm up for it, Phil, but it'll be a lot easier out on the grass..."

"Don't want it easy. Want it like this. Want you like this."

"You want us to have sex in your car?"

"Mmm-hmm." Phil was licking and sucking at Clint's nipple, as he eased Clint's jeans down over his hips.

"It's... it's a bit of a tight squeeze..." Clint gasped as Phil scraped light fingernails across his balls.

"You're flexible."

"Yeah. Yeah. OK, fuck, Phil. You're getting filthy in your old age."

"Nothing to do with age," Phil said between long licks back up the side of Clint's neck. "Wanted to do this forever. This car. Since I was a teenager. Wanted to have sex in this car... Yesssss." Clint had opened Phil's pants and was stroking his hard cock.

Two grown men in a 1962 sports car with non-reclining bucket seats and a steering wheel that didn't tilt out of the way was a challenge, but Clint was flexible and Phil was resourceful and determined. After a lot of adjusting, a little grunting and only a couple of bruises, they were both mostly naked and Clint was straddling Phil's lap. 

"Please tell me you remembered the lube," Clint said, rocking his hips forward to brush Phil's hard dick with his own.

"Yes, here." Phil reached into the foot well to his pants pocket and came up with a packet. He tore it open with his teeth, spread the contents on his fingers, and reached for Clint's ass. Clint kissed him and went back to brushing their dicks together while Phil opened him up.

"OK?"

"Fuck, yeah. Slide down just a little more, that's it... There. Perfect. Ahhhh." 

Clint sank down on Phil's dick and leaned back against the steering wheel, a position that wasn't going to be comfortable for very long, but neither of them were planning on setting any endurance records today, not the way Phil was already stroking Clint's dick purposefully.

"Come on, Clint. Ride me."

Clint grabbed the top edge of the driver's door for leverage and pushed himself up, then flailed a little, off balance. His elbow hit the radio buttons. He jammed his knee more firmly between the two seats and sank back down onto Phil's dick as the tube radio warmed up and started to play,

" _...where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Cherry Cola,_ " sang The Kinks.

"Sorry, I can..." Clint tried to twist around to turn the radio back off, but Phil grabbed him.

"Leave it. Fuck me, dammit," Phil said, thrusting up with his hips.

Clint grinned, and started to move in time to the music.

_"I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said, 'Lola' L-O-L-A Lola..."_

Phil was moving with him, thrusting up to meet him with a strength and ferocity that surprised Clint, and drove him wild.

"Yeah, yeah, come on Phil. Fuck me. Fuck me hard."

_"Well, we drank champagne and danced all night, under electric candlelight,"_

The leather seats creaked under them, the car rocked a little on its suspension. Clint bashed his knee on the window handle. Phil grabbed the steering wheel with the hand that wasn't wrapped around Clint's dick and used it for leverage to fuck up into Clint harder as Clint thrust down on him, crashing their groins together bruisingly hard.

_"Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls. It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world,"_

Phil tipped his head back and shuddered as he came. Clint leaned forward, trapping his dick and Phil's hand between their bodies, thrust hard, and spurted, gasping and collapsing onto Phil's shoulder.

_"Lola smiled and took me by the hand, she said, "Little boy, gonna make you a man."_

Clint started to giggle. He sang along into Phil's ear, " _Well I'm not the world's most masculine man, but I know what I am and that I'm a man, so is Lola._ "

Phil sang with him, " _Lo lo lo Lola. Lo lo lo Lola._ "

They both collapsed in fits of giggles. Phil reached out and clicked the radio off before an announcer could come on and break the spell. They lay tangled together gasping and messy, still giggling.

"Thank you Clint. That was everything I always wanted it to be."

"Well, except for the assist by The Kinks, maybe."

"Nope. Even that was perfect, because now we've christened her properly."

"Christened her? Her who?"

"Lola," said Phil, patting the dashboard affectionately.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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